On My Own
by Mikki13
Summary: After graduation, they went their separate ways. What happens when fate intervenes and Finn and Rachel come face-to-face after seven years apart?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **A big thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed "Footprints in the Snow," my very first Glee fic. Now that I've written one, I just can't stop. This will be a multi-chapter. However, be forewarned: Unlike many of the amazing writers on this site, my updates come approximately once a week. I'll try to get them up sooner, but that's really all I can promise. I hope you'll bear with me. ;-)

**Disclaimer: **I dreamt they were mine once, and then I woke up.

**Disclaimer 2: **The songs contained herein belong to Garth Brooks and Jordin Sparks. The poem was penned by an anonymous author.

~*~

**Seven Years Ago . . .**

"_Finn, good!" Rachel cried, rushing across the auditorium as her features split into a wide grin. "I was wondering when you were going to get here. We have so much to do before graduation."_

_A half-smile wavered upon Finn's lips, quickly dying away as he scuffed the linoleum floor with the toe of his sneaker. "Sorry," he mumbled, unable to meet Rachel's excited brown gaze when she slipped her arms around his waist. And when he failed to return her kiss, quick yet passionate as she pushed her warm lips against his mouth, she blinked in surprise and studied him carefully._

"_Is something wrong, Finn?" she queried, her forehead creasing in concern. "You said you'd be here an hour ago, and you're not usually so late. Well," she amended thoughtfully, her voice raising half an octave, "Unless you oversleep or get caught up in those video games you like to play. But you haven't done that in a long time. Not since –"_

"_Everything's fine," he assured her, unwinding her arms and taking a step back. "I just . . . had some things I had to take care of first, that's all." Even as he said the words, even as they hung uncertain and awkward in the air between them, he couldn't help the jolt of self-reproach which pierced his chest. He hated lying to Rachel. He hated keeping secrets from her. Ever since that day in the auditorium over a year before – that weird yet wonderful day when he'd finally realized just how much she meant to him – he had told her everything. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to tell her what was happening now._

_Even so, she seemed to know. Rachel always seemed to know. It was sometimes eerie how much she understood, how much she knew him. Almost like she really was psychic, or like she could read his mind. "Is something wrong, Finn?" she asked in a small voice, and his self-reproach increased when he noticed the shadow of hurt flicker across her face._

_He opened his mouth to respond, possibly even to come clean. He could feel the words forming at the back of his throat, the truth coalescing upon his tongue. But before he could say anything, before he could even consider what he wanted to say, he felt his mouth snapping shut. He felt his feet taking another step back. And he felt himself shutting down. "I told you," he replied, an angry flutter of remorse prickling through his veins, "I'm fine."_

_She stared at him for a long moment, clearly unconvinced. He willed her to let it go, just this once. To leave him be, to stop trying to get him to talk. She had never been one to back down, especially when it concerned him. And while he usually loved that about her – while he usually loved everything about her, from her perky smile to her amazing voice to her enormous heart – he couldn't deal with it now. Not today. Not when he'd just discovered that . . ._

"_I don't believe you," she admitted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her eyes continued to bore holes into his face, her mouth setting itself into a firm line. "Something's wrong. Finn, why won't you talk to me?" Her tone was demanding yet concerned, stern yet gentle all at once. It caused his heart to skip even while his throat tightened and his stomach knotted from suppressed tension._

"_Would you just let it be?" he exploded, punching the air in frustration._

"_Fine," Rachel cried, staring at him in shocked disbelief._

"_Good,"Finn replied, gritting his teeth against the wave of regret he felt when he registered the look on her face._

"_Do you still want to practice our song?" she asked quietly._

_Taking a deep breath, pushing away the emotions roiling through his gut, Finn almost shook his head no. He almost allowed himself to make up some excuse, to walk out of the auditorium, to disappear. But when he gazed at his girlfriend, when he saw her standing there in her plaid purple skirt and her kneehigh stockings and her lavender t-shirt, he realized that he couldn't do that. In that moment, she looked so much like a little girl that he wanted to wrap her in his arms. In that moment, she looked so much like the young woman he'd fallen in love with that he wanted to kiss away all the pain he'd caused._

"_Okay," he grunted, shrugging noncommitally. "Let's practice."_

"_Okay," Rachel repeated, the uncertainty of her voice a stark contrast from her usual confident demeanor. But when she reached out to take his hand, when her arm brushed against his bare skin and her lips quirked into a tentative smile, he found himself following her to the stage. And when the melodious notes of the CD echoed through the auditorium a moment later, her confidence seemed to return. _

_It was only later, when they found themselves alone again, that everything came crashing to a horrible halt and the world stopped making sense. But then, he wondered if it had ever made much sense to begin with._

~*~

**Present Day . . .**

"Of course, Sir," Finn said quickly, holding his cell phone tightly against his ear as he sidestepped a neverending crowd of talkative pedestrians. "No, it's no problem."

Walking rapidly along the sidewalk, he barely noticed where he was going. He barely had the time to care. His boss was rattling off commands faster than Nolan Ryan could pitch. Taxi cabs whirled by, their cacaphony of horns mingling with the distinct chatter of passersby, yet Finn failed to pay them any attention. The sky gradually darkened to a steely gray, the humid air turning slightly cold, yet Finn didn't even register the change. Stepping out into the busy Time Square traffic, his thoughts were so focused that he didn't notice the tour bus careening in his direction. He didn't hear the blare of the horn, or register the screech of the brakes. It was only when he heard a stranger's scream that he shook himself from his stupor and jumped back onto the curb.

"Finn?" Mr. Carson demanded, his tone brusque yet concerned. "You there, Son?"

"Sorry, Mr. Carson," Finn replied, willing his heartrate to return to a normal rhythm. "I'd forgotten how impatient New York drivers can be."

The low hum of chuckling sounded across the phone lines, and Finn slowly felt himself relax. Glancing in either direction, he stepped into the busy street and finally made his way to the other side of the intersection. "So what were you saying about Apple, Sir?" he prodded, redirecting the conversation back to the matter at hand.

However, it appeared that his boss had other ideas in mind. "Finn, when was the last time you took the night off?" he queried, and Finn could almost see him stroking his chin in thought.

"Uh, I don't know, Sir," he answered truthfully, furrowing his brow. "I guess a couple of weeks ago." The reality of his statement wasn't lost on either man. In actuality, Finn hadn't taken a vacation in over three years, he hadn't taken a day off in over two, and he rarely if ever enjoyed a quiet night to himself. If he'd seen himself now while he was still in high school, the younger version of Finn Hudson would have probably kicked his ass. _But then_, he mused thoughtfully as he paused outside an overhang, _the younger version of Finn Hudson had never dealt with the things he'd had to deal with._

"Take the night off, Finn," his boss interrupted, jolting him from his reverie.

Finn's eyes flew wide at the statement, uttered by the man who had always encouraged him to be a go-getter. "But what about Apple, Sir?" he insisted. They had been trying to make this deal for weeks, and his boss was telling him to take the night off? "We have that meeting –"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Mr. Carson interrupted, before sighing into the receiver. "Listen, kid. You're the best damn employee I've got, but I'll be darned if I'm going to let you kill yourself because you're working too hard."

Shaking his head in denial, Finn leaned hard against the cool window of a small bakery. "Sir, I'm fine –"

"You're not fine, Finn," Mr. Carson interrupted again, causing Finn's shoulders to slump. And when silence met the man's accusation, his stomach clenched as he waited for his boss to continue. "Listen," the man finally said, his tone tinged with seriousness, "I know I've always encouraged you to fight for everything you want, and to work until you've reached the top. But you haven't taken a vacation for years, Finn. When I look at you, I see dark circles underneath your eyes and a young man who hasn't slept well for weeks. When I watch you work, I see someone who's lost all joy in life. If you don't start taking better care of yourself, Mr. Hudson, then it won't just be your work that will suffer. Believe me," he said after another lengthy pause. "I know."

The ominous sound of his words caused Finn's chest to twist, even as he found himself agreeing with what was said. It _was_ true, after all. He hadn't slept well in weeks. He hadn't taken time off in years. He hadn't stopped working in as long as he could remember. But had he really lost all joy in life? Had he really become the sort of drone that Mr. Carson was describing?

Unbidden, an image popped into Finn's mind, as clear and distinct as the busy New York street sprawled before his eyes. A long stage with flashing lights and the sounds of a piano. An audience full of people, each with their eyes fixed upon the stage, each with their hands clasped expectantly in their laps. And a group of kids with shining faces and broad smiles, their voices harmonious as they sang as one.

And along with that image, along with the memory that sent his pulse racing and caused an unfamiliar gleam to enter his coffee brown eyes, was the silhouette of a gorgeous young diva. A tiny girl, a beautiful young woman who had stolen his heart. Who had opened his eyes and made him see things he had never thought possible. Who had taken his hand and made him feel things he had never thought he'd feel.

It was something he hadn't thought about for a long time.

And suddenly, he realized why he'd stopped when he had. He realized why he was staring across the street, fixed in place as a pattern of bright lights burned themselves into his retinas. A hesitant smile spread across his face as he took in the sign, reading the words which glittered across the way: "LES MISERABLES. TICKETS ON SALE NOW."

For some reason, the very idea of seeing a broadway musical had never occurred to him. As dedicated as he was to his high school Glee Club, as much as he'd always loved music, he'd never considered taking a break and seeing a musical. But as he stared at the sign, as he studied the words, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his night off.

"You know what, Mr. Carson?" he finally said, unable to suppress the grin which lit up his face. "I think I might take you up on that offer after all."

~*~

**Seven Years Ago . . .**

_Rachel Berry was concerned. As she stood at the front of the stage in her flowing red gown and mortarboard hat, holding the microphone that was rightfully hers while she waited for the harmonious chords of music to begin, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Finn Hudson had never kept something from her during their entire relationship, but he was keeping something from her now. Of that, she was certain. But even with her fluid delivery of speech and her mastery of persuasion, she hadn't been able to get him to talk. It was a problem she'd never had before, and she didn't like it._

_Even so, she forced a gleaming grin into place and stood up straight as the opening chords of music echoed across the auditorium. Finn was in the appropriate place by her side, and she reached out to take his hand before belting out the opening notes. The difficulty was, she felt him stiffen as his fingers closed over her own. He had never stiffened at her touch before. He had never pulled away when she kissed him before, either. What on earth was happening?_

You know a dream is like a river  
Ever changin' as it flows  
And a dreamer's just a vessel  
That must follow where it goes  
Trying to learn from what's behind you  
And never knowing what's in store  
Makes each day a constant battle  
Just to stay between the shores . . .

_Her clear, dulcet tones melded together with the other members of New Directions', their combined voices causing the audience to smile appreciatively. But even as Rachel hit each note, even as she lost herself in the music, she couldn't stop her concern from growing into fullblown worry. Finn was not behaving like his usual carefree self. In fact, he was as far from carefree as possible. He had missed two notes, and she realized that he was feverishly scanning the auditorium. But for what?_

Too many times we stand aside  
And let the waters slip away  
'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow  
Has now become today  
So don't you sit upon the shoreline  
And say you're satisfied  
Choose to chance the rapids  
And dare to dance the tide . . .

_He had been distant since yesterday morning, when he showed up late for rehearsal. Had she done something wrong? Was it something that she'd said? She wracked her mind, trying to remember the last conversation they'd had. It had focused on their impending trip to New York; on their plans to move to the City for college soon after graduation. As far as she could remember, everything had gone smoothly. _Actually, it had gone more than smoothly,_ she remembered with a small flutter of her stomach and a twitch of her lips._

_That was it. She was just going to have to talk to him. She was going to sit him down and explain that he was acting oddly, and then demand that he tell her what was going on. Sometimes Rachel Berry had to take the lead, and this appeared to be one of those times. She would not back down._

There's bound to be rough waters  
And I know I'll take some falls  
But with the good Lord as my captain  
I can make it through them all . . .

_Her mind made up, Rachel finished the song with gusto, holding her chin out with pride when the audience gave them the standing ovation they deserved. She could hardly wait until graduation was over so she could talk to Finn. She could hardly wait to get everything out into the open so that they could start their new life together as high school graduates._

_The problem was, when the festivities came to an end and the diplomas had been handed out, Finn Hudson was nowhere in sight. He had deserted her at their very own graduation, without so much as a good-bye._

~*~

**Present Day . . .**

Rachel Berry stared at herself in her lit-up circular mirror, a determined glint in her eyes and a bright smile on her face as she brushed a healthy amount of blusher onto her cheekbones. After years of collegiate study and auditions, and months of rehearsals and sound checks, she was finally getting ready for her first big night with the Company. It seemed almost like a dream, being backstage as her fellow actors bustled about, preparing for that night's show. Even though she'd always known she would make it – she was Rachel Berry, after all – she couldn't believe that it was finally happening. She couldn't believe that she was finally here, that she was finally getting ready to shine.

Sure, she'd be shining in the chorus with many other hopeful young divas. And there was a chance that she'd be hidden behind scenery for much of the night. But that didn't change the fact that she was finally getting her big break. That didn't change the fact that she was the understudy to the understudy for Eponine.

_So why is it_, she wondered, her lips puckering in confusion, _That I don't feel like a star?_

It was the weirdest feeling. She had always dreamed of this night. She had always dreamed of the moment when she'd emerge upon a broadway stage, thousands of people watching her every move. And she had always known exactly how she would feel when it happened. She would feel as though she was the happiest person alive, as if all of her dreams were coming true. She would feel as though she was lighter than air.

For some reason, the realization caused goose bumps to break out onto her skin. _Lighter than air. _And suddenly, a strain of song wafted through her mind, an echo of music sounding from the distant past.

_If I should die before I wake  
It's 'cause you took my breath away  
Losing you is like living in a world with no air . . ._

Shivering slightly as the memory weighed heavily upon her thoughts, she wrapped her arms around her slender frame and attempted to push the recollection aside. Unfortunately, it only seemed to return all the stronger. And along with the memory, along with the silent song was an image. An image of a tall, muscular boy with russet hair and the sweetest smile she had ever known. An image of the boy who had stolen her heart. An image of the young man she had tried to forget, even when forgetting proved to be impossible.

Biting her lower lip, Rachel leaned forward and stared at herself in the mirror. _Get a grip, Rachel,_ she ordered herself. _You can't do this. Not here. Not now. Finn is gone, and you have to move on. What is that poem about letting go? If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it is yours. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be. _Nodding resolutely, she forced herself to focus entirely on that poem, to focus entirely on the night ahead. This was too important; her dreams were too important. She wasn't going to let anything – or anyone – ruin them for her.

"Hey, Berry!" The stage manager called, interrupting her reverie.

Blinking away her thoughts, Rachel turned to face the wiry man. "Hmm?" she questioned blankly.

"Is everything okay?" The man grunted, arching a brow.

"Yes, of course," Rachel nodded, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter in her chair. "Why?"

"Good," the stage manager replied gruffly. "Because you're on in five."

Rachel's stomach knotted as the curtain rose and the opening notes of Les Miserables began to sound to a packed house. This was it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So here it is; the long awaited chapter. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read (and especially to review) the first. I love to hear each and every one of your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy this next (slightly longer) chapter. They won't always be this long, but it appears that the story took on a life of its own. ;-)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own "Glee"; rather, "Glee" seems to own me. ;-) Also, the song contained herein belongs to "When in Rome".

~*~

**Nine Years Ago (Give or Take a Few Months) . . .**

"_Come on, Rachel," Finn wheedled, the corners of his eyes creased in agitated appeal as he leaned against the heavy red velvet of the theatre curtain. All around them, members of their glee club were warming up for the Spring assembly. All around them, people were chatting and laughing and getting ready to perform for their fellow students. For once, it appeared that no one was looking in their direction. It was the perfect opportunity to get Rachel to open up. "I just want to talk," he tried, giving her his famous puppy dog eyes. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to do the trick._

"_We're beyond talking, Finn Hudson," Rachel replied, with a defiant flash of her eyes and a slight jut of her chin. "In fact, I don't think we have anything left to say to each other."_

"_But that's not true," Finn cried, wringing his hands in frustration. "Look, I know that I made a mistake, but –"_

"_Call it whatever you will," Rachel interrupted, glaring determinedly at the curtain, "It doesn't change the way that I feel." She had put herself on the line for the boy standing imploringly by her side, and she wasn't going to let herself be humiliated again. Because every time she let him in, every time she mistakenly opened her heart for the handsome male lead, he squashed it into a million little pieces. And Rachel Berry's feelings were more important than that. They were more important than any boy, no matter how much she cared about him._

"_Rachel, please," Finn plead, taking a step toward her. And when she still refused to look at him, and the tilt of her chin became just a little more defiant, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm._

_Her eyes widened at his touch, and she whirled to face him. "Let go of me, Finn," she demanded, even while a hint of vulnerability flickered through her chocolate brown gaze. "I told you, I don't want to talk and –"_

"_Rachel, I know I made a mistake," he implored, his fingers loosening slightly around her slender arm. She gritted her teeth in determination as the sensation caused goose bumps to break out onto her sensitive skin. "Believe me, I've been kicking myself in the as – um, in the butt ever since." At his choice in language, Rachel's mouth quirked slightly, but she quickly bit back the grin and continued to glare. "I know what I did was wrong, and I'm just asking you to forgive me. Please?" he added a moment later, when she still refused to speak._

_Sighing heavily, the young woman studied her long-time crush, a plethora of emotions fluttering across her face. Anger. Hurt. Regret. Longing. But every time she tried to let go, every time she even considered forgiving him, she remembered the incident from two days before. She and Finn had been getting closer; so close that he often waited for her after school. So close that he often walked her to her next class. So close that he often stared at her for long periods of time, a wistful look upon his face. So close that after rehearsal one day, when they were discussing their chances for Regionals, he had leaned ever so intimately toward her until his lips were almost touching hers. She remembered how much she had wanted him to kiss her. She remembered how desperately she had wanted to feel his lips caressing hers. How badly she had wanted to feel herself wrapped up in his arms._

_And then they had heard the laughter. Two boys from the football team had been walking by the room, and happened to peek inside. "Well, what do we have here?" one of the co-dependent jocks had demanded, crossing his arms over his beefy chest as a sick grin spread across his face._

"_First Homo Explosion and now the lead Gleek herself," another (Karofsky?) had chided, shaking his head in disgust. "You're a disgrace, Hudson."_

_Finn looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes had widened, his mouth had parted, and he had looked from the boys to Rachel and back again. But even though Rachel smiled encouragingly, even though she reached down to take his hand, the football player had shut down completely._

"_No," he replied, dropping Rachel's hand and scooting his chair a little to the side, "No, you guys don't know what you're talking about. We're just going over our song." And when Rachel's features twisted in hurt, he simply bit his lower lip and pretended as though he didn't notice. It was almost as though she weren't even in the room at all; almost as though Finn Hudson had suddenly deemed her invisible._

"_Yeah," Karofsky scoffed, leering at the pair. "What was it again? Push It?"_

"_Come on, guys," Finn reiterated feebly, even while a guilty flush crept up his cheeks. "We're just teammates."_

"_Whatever," Karofsky replied, rolling his eyes. "Come on, dude," he said to his friend, motioning to the hallway, "We have better things to do than hang out with these losers."_

"_Losers," his friend repeated, smirking at them as he headed into the hallway . . ._

_. . . "Rach?" Finn interrupted her reverie, jolting her back to the present as he gazed at her in concern. "Is everything okay?"_

_Blinking away the last vestiges of the memory, Rachel suddenly shook Finn's hand from her arm. "Everything is just fine, Finn," she stated adamantly, fixing her jaw. She had given him so many chances; she had given him so many opportunities to be in her life. And she was tired of trying. She was tired of getting hurt, of feeling ashamed, simply because Finn Hudson couldn't see what was right in front of him. "And I have nothing to forgive you for," she continued loftily, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's certainly not your fault that you're embarrassed to be seen with me."_

_Finn's face dropped at the statement, and he tried to reach out for her again. "Rach, that's not –"_

"_I'm busy, Finn," she interrupted, whirling back around to face the front of the stage. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a musical number to perform." And with that, the curtains parted and Rachel flounced onto the stage, leaving a crestfallen Finn in her wake. The trouble was, she couldn't help but feel as though something was off._

~*~

Rachel stood behind the red velvet curtain, her stomach tied in knots even as she adopted her practiced professional demeanor. She had wanted this for so long; she had worked for this so hard. She could almost taste the admiration that she had always longed for. The acclaim. The exaltation. But even as she waited for her cue, even as she stretched her muscles for the energetic dance number, she couldn't help but feel as though something was missing. Something wasn't as it should be. And before she really knew what was happening, a pair of gentle cinnamon eyes flashed through her mind.

_Finn Hudson._

_He promised he would be here_, she realized as her heart twisted uncomfortably. And even though she didn't know why she was remembering that now, even though she didn't know why she was thinking about him after all these years, she couldn't deny the effect the memories had on her. She couldn't deny the sense of emptiness that flooded her chest, or the feeling of loss that pervaded her mind. She also couldn't help but feel that something was off. But what?_ Finn Hudson?_ She hadn't seen him for years. She hadn't even though about him for months. So why now?

She was standing feet from the stage, leaning against the heavy curtain that separated her from the masses, and remembering the love of her life. _The love of my life?_ she thought, her forehead wrinkling in consternation. _Could that be right?_

Had he really been the love of her life? They had met in high school, and dated for two years. But they had broken up a long time ago, and she had dated other men since then. So why was it that she couldn't shake the memory of his smile now? Why was it that she longed to see him out in the audience, staring raptly at her as she chimed in with her newest musical number? Why was it that she suddenly felt like she couldn't let him go?

So caught up in thought was she that she almost didn't notice the young stage hand sidle up to her side. When he finally interrupted her thoughts, she had to stop herself from jumping in bewilderment and whirling around to face him.

"Hey, Ms. Berry," the young man approached her from behind, his greasy blonde hair falling into his bright green eyes. "Someone sent these for you." A bouquet of roses was cradled in his wiry arms, their fragrance almost discernible even in the musky air.

Rachel's eyes widened in slight surprise as she reached out for the card. But when she read the greeting, when she saw the name signed below, her muscles tensed. "Thank you, Sammy," she said evenly, plunking the card back into the bouquet. "I appreciate you bringing them to my attention. Would you please place them on my makeup stand?"

"Of course, Ms. Berry," the young assistant stammered as Rachel smiled at him. Even if the smile failed to reach the depths of her beautiful brown eyes, it still lit up her face. "Right aw –"

"Cravens," the stage manager (Gary) barked, looking stern. "What have I told you about bothering the actors in between scenes?"

Rachel's smile turned slightly sympathetic as the young man stuttered incoherently and began backing away, Gary glowering at him the entire time. Just before he left, however, he stammered one last, "Good luck, Ms. Berry."

"Thank you, Sammy," she replied, secretly enjoying the attention. Even though the young man was at least five years her junior, she couldn't deny feeling special when he lavished her with his stuttered affections. It was the kind of feeling she had longed for her whole life; the kind of adoration. Even when she was receiving daily slushie facials, she always knew she would make it here. She always knew she was destined for greatness. Rachel Berry had been born a star, ready and waiting for her big Broadway debut.

That was exactly what she needed to remember now. That was exactly what she needed to focus on. She needed to put the ghost of her ex-boyfriend from her mind, and behave like the star she was destined to be. Pulling herself to her full height, she exhaled slowly and nodded when the stage manager signaled her to come onstage. Regardless of how she might be feeling, she was going to behave like the professional she was. She owed herself that much at least.

"Hey, chorus girl," came a snide voice from her right.

Rachel's stomach dropped as she turned to face the snooty lead, Lisa Mae Reynolds. "Yes?" she replied coolly, forcing herself to remain calm and detached even despite the other woman's arrogant glare. Ever since she had offered to help her reach some notes that she had been unable to reach (not everyone had Rachel Berry's training), the two hadn't gotten along. It appeared that tonight would be no exception.

"Don't screw it up," Lisa ordered, an ugly sneer forming at the corner of her mouth. "I want tonight to go perfectly, and I don't need a haughty peon stealing my thunder."

"Of course, Lisa," Rachel replied smoothly, even as she narrowed her eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it." And with that, she whirled around and sauntered away.

Unfortunately, things didn't go exactly as planned. Because as she glided onstage and joined in with the chorus, falling effortlessly into her dance routine, one memory continued to haunt her thoughts. One person continued to invade her mind. And one forgotten dream began to flutter to the surface of her consciousness.

Maybe this was why she blew her high note, causing Lisa to smile superiorly. Maybe this was why the lead shot her a look of disgust when she bumped into her from behind, causing her to stumble forward. And maybe this was why she thought she saw a wide-eyed Finn Hudson staring at her as she danced around the stage. Sitting in the front row with his brown hair slicked back and his muscular frame bedecked in a business suit, she could almost believe that she saw him gazing at her with the rapt attention she so longed for.

But then she quickly pushed that thought from her mind. Finn Hudson had fled her life long ago, and he wasn't coming back. He had made that much certain. So even as the man continued to stare, even as he continued to watch, and even as the cast took their final bows, she refused to look in his direction. There were some things Rachel Berry needed to leave in the past, and this was one of those things.

The problem was, she still couldn't shake the feeling that something vital was missing.

~*~

**Nine Years Ago (Give or Take a Few Months) . . .**

If you need a friend,

don't look to a stranger,

You know in the end,

I'll always be there.

_Finn Hudson was an idiot. No, he was more than an idiot. He was a double idiot. A double idiot with a slushie on top, who might have screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to him. He still couldn't quite understand how it had happened. He still couldn't quite remember what had posses . . . posass . . . made him say what he'd said. The only thing he knew, the only thing he remembered, was a feeling of faint panic when the guys from the football team had caught him with Rachel. I mean, this was it. The Moment of Truth, like on that TV show he'd watched once. That big moment when everything changes._

And when you're in doubt,

and when you're in danger,

Take a look all around,

and I'll be there.

_And Finn had wanted it to change, he realized as he sang the lead alongside Rachel. God, she was beautiful. He'd never seen anyone so honest, so open. So vulnerable. When she sang the way she was singing now, when her face glowed from within and her smokin' hot body completely relaxed, it was almost as if she was free. Like she didn't have a care in the world. Man, how he longed to feel that way. How he longed to feel like nothing – like no one – was holding him back._

_The only time he felt that way – the _only_ time – was when he was with Rachel. She made him feel like he could be himself; like she would never judge him, no matter what idiotic things he did. No matter what idiotic things he said. How could he have screwed up so badly? How could he have hurt her again? _Idiot.

I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say, (I promise)

I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)

But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me,

I promise, I promise you I will.

_Suddenly, the song seemed to take on a new life for Finn. The lyrics seemed to swirl through his mind, making sense where before they had not. Wrapping his arm around Rachel's waist as he swung her around the stage, he began to realize what "When in Rome" might have been feeling when they wrote this song. He had goofed up, yeah. He hadn't come up with the right words, and things definitely weren't the way he'd planned them to be. But he could change that, right? He could make it alright again. The only thing he had to do was show Rachel that he cared about her as much as she (he hoped) cared about him._

_Almost without thinking, Finn held onto Rachel's arm even while the rest of New Directions continued to sing the song. Almost without thinking, his eyes flickered to her lips, even while her brow furrowed in confusion and annoyance. Almost without thinking, his eyes fluttered back up to her own intense gaze, locking onto her own eyes in a way he'd never looked at her before. In a way he'd never even allowed himself to look at her, as a variety of emotions suddenly pooled within his cinnamon gaze. And before she could pull away, before she could even contemplate what he was going to do next, he was pulling her toward him. He was closing the distance between them. And he was bringing his lips crashing down upon her own._

_The song ended abruptly when Finn Hudson, high school quarterback, popular dude and all around American guy began making out with Rachel Berry the Lead Gleek right in front of the entire school. The audience gaped at them as Rachel tensed, her free arm dangling by her side. But Finn continued to kiss her, he continued to hold her, and he continued to show her everything he had denied for so long. Slowly, Rachel's eyes began to close and her fingers traveled to his russet hair, entangling themselves within his spiky locks. Pushing herself against his muscular frame, her lips caressed his almost as heatedly as his brushed hers._

_Neither noticed when the curtain closed amidst a crowd of varying reactions, from the stunned Mr. Schuester to the jeering jocks to the bewildered amusement of their fellow glee clubbers._

"_I hope they don't get stuck like that," Kurt mused, smirking slightly. "And here I thought he could do so much better."_

"_May_be_, but that boy sure can kiss," Mercedes ogled the pair._

"_Do you think they're going to come up for oxygen?" Artie queried, his forehead creasing in concern. "I heard that lack of breathing could cause severe brain damage."_

"_Believe me, honey," Kurt cut in, his smirk growing more pronounced as he placed a hand on his hip. "Those two aren't even thinking about breathing right now."_

_Only a certain blonde appeared rather unimpressed. "Get a room," Quinn snapped before sweeping backstage, a bemused Puck following in her wake. _

_But Finn and Rachel simply ignored her, the way they were ignoring everyone else. And when Tina suggested that they give the star-crossed lovers some space, they were still enveloped in one another's arms. They were still lost in one another's kiss._

_It was only several moments later, when everyone had vacated the auditorium, that Rachel finally broke the embrace. Taking several deep breaths, she stared in wide eyed astonishment at the boy standing before her. "Why did you do that?" she demanded, shaking her head. "Kissing me in front of the entire school isn't exactly going to help your precariously fragile reputation, Finn."_

_Willing his pulse to return to a normal rhythm, Finn could only shrug. "I realized something today," he admitted, swallowing a lump of tension._

"_What was that?" Rachel asked, a guarded layer settling over her already vulnerable expression. _

"_I don't care what they think, Rachel," Finn replied, placing a gentle hand onto her arm. He paused for a moment, his heart beating like a Mack truck as he tried to think of the right words to say. As he tried to fix the awkwardness he could feel creeping up between them. "I . . . You're more important than that. You're kinda more important than anything."_

"_Finn," Rachel murmured, her hand rising almost inadvertently to rest atop his own. But then she seemed to think better, and the protected quality returned to her features. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep giving you chances and allowing you to stomp on my heart." Her gaze flickered to her feet, and she continued in a softer tone: "It hurts too much."_

_It was like a sucker punch to the gut. Seeing the dejected gleam in her eyes, and hearing the saddened inflection in her voice, almost caused him physical pain. He couldn't believe that he had hurt her so badly; he couldn't believe he had toyed with her heart so much. The only thing he knew was that he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her. "Please, Rachel," he plead, rubbing the back of her arm with his calloused thumb. "Just give me one more chance? I promise to . . . I promise to treat you the way you deserve to be treated." God, how he wanted to do that._

_When she looked at him next, when her gaze locked again with his own, the vulnerability he saw reflected there caused his heart to skip a beat. "How can I trust you?" she demanded, biting her lower lip. "You don't exactly have a stellar track record, you know."_

"_Because, Rach," he said, smiling gently even as his chest twisted at her statement. "I'm in love with you." The words came from out of nowhere, surprising him almost as much as they startled her. But once he'd spoken them, once they hung thick and heady in the air between them, he knew they were the truth. Somewhere along the line, this enigma of a misunderstood young ingénue had gotten him to fall in love with her. And along the way, she had changed his entire life. _

"_I love you," he repeated, relishing the words as they formed upon his tongue. Wrapping her in his arms, he continued to gaze into her glistening brown eyes. "And I want to be with you. I want to . . . I want to be the guy you can count on. You know? The guy who doesn't care what others think. The one who carries your books and . . . I don't know, takes care of you when you're sick." Yeah, it sounded lame, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she was hugging him tightly nor that the vulnerability in her eyes had increased. Feeling a renewed sense of confidence, he continued. "I want to be the guy who comes to all your plays. The guy who sits in the front row on the night of your big Broadway debut. I mean it, Rachel," he rushed ahead when she opened her mouth to interrupt. Somehow, he knew he had to keep going. He had to keep talking, he had to let it all out, before she took it all away. He had to let her know how he felt if he was ever going to have a chance of keeping her in his life. "I want to be that one, Rach. That guy who goes through it all with you. And I know this is really lame," he confessed, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "But I had to say something."_

"_Are you done yet, Finn?" she asked, a husky essence entering her voice. God, that was sexy. It caused him to shiver slightly._

"_I think so," he replied uncertainly, folding his lips as he waited for his sentence to be handed down._

"_Good," she replied, her smile almost as sexy as her voice. And then she was standing on her tiptoes and capturing his lips in a searing kiss, all the hesitation from earlier having evaporated. The last thing he remembered was her small body flush against his own as her fingers returned to his hair. Soon after that, the world fell away as he surrendered to her touch._

~*~

He had forgotten what a rush he got from even sitting in a crowded theatre. The adrenaline that pumped through his veins, the thrill that coursed through his chest. It was like some far distant memory, forgotten yet still present, lost but still capable of return. Resting his arms on the armrests in a front row seat (yeah, he'd decided to splurge), he waited almost breathlessly for the play to begin. Okay, this was a little lame. He knew that he had work to do. He knew that he had a meeting to prepare for. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from thumping his foot in time to the music flowing from a nearby speaker. Being back in a theatre was just cool.

_Too bad Rachel isn't here to see this. She would have lov . . . _And then he cut himself off. Where had that thought come from? He hadn't thought about Rachel since . . . well, since that afternoon. Standing in the middle of Times Square with the theatre marquee blinking at him from across the street, he hadn't been able to suppress the image of her perky smile or the memory of her gorgeous eyes. She had wanted this. She had wanted all of this. And he was supposed to share it with her. He had promised to be that guy.

_But that was in high school_, he reminded himself as his chest twisted almost painfully. _That was a long time ago. She probably wouldn't even recognize me now._

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Finn was almost grateful when the house lights began to dim. Perched on the edge of his chair, a slow smile spread across his face as the actors began to come onstage. And when the rich vocals began to wash over him, he kinda felt like he had come home. _Yeah,_ he admonished himself, feeling the sudden urge to roll his eyes, _Definitely lame._

Still, he continued to absorb every word, to study every movement, and to feel the rekindling of something he hadn't felt for a long, long time. A sensation which was almost overpowering. A sensation which was almost magical. A sensation which suddenly increased exponentially in force when he noticed the tiny young woman seated at a wooden table at stage left.

He didn't think it was medically possible, but he could have sworn that his heart stopped beating inside his chest. She was exactly as he remembered her, and nothing at all like he had imagined. Decked in a French peasant's costume, her magnificent vocals blended perfectly with the other actors and yet set her apart from everyone else. Rachel Berry had always been an enigma, and tonight was no exception. But had she always been this beautiful? Somehow, he couldn't remember.

The only thing he could do, the only action he was capable of performing was staring at her in slack jawed wonder. His hands tightened imperceptibly around the armrests as he scooted forward in his seat, staring at the gorgeous woman in front of him. The gorgeous woman. She was a woman now. Rachel Berry had grown up.

He didn't know how long the play lasted. He couldn't recall exactly how he made it out of the theatre. He didn't even understand how he'd been able to sit still as long as he had. He only started to return to reality when the cold night air began to assault his cheeks and whip through his short brown hair. Without even realizing what he was doing, he was making the trek to the stage door. Would she remember him? Did he even want to find out? What if she hated him? What if she told him that she never wanted to see him again? It had been so long . . .

"That was one hell of an opening night," the excited cry of a young man cut through his thoughts, causing his head to snap in the reveler's direction. "We were smokin'."

"Did you hear Missy's rendition of 'On My Own'?" A woman queried, a wide grin stretched across her face. "It was her best yet."

"I was too busy calming Lisa down," said another member of the party. "I thought she was going to hit the roof after Rachel bumped into her during her big number. She almost quit right then," he chortled. "She was going on and on. Something about incompetent peons."

At the sound of her name, Finn's interest was piqued. And when the next person spoke, he found himself freezing in his tracks and straining to hear everything that was said.

"Rachel was awesome, wasn't she?" said a pimply faced boy with greasy blonde hair. "She has such a great voice."

"The chick who almost caused Lisa to quit?" the previous woman asked. "But she's just a chorus member."

"Sammy's got a crush," drawled the first young man as he elbowed the blonde. "Ever since she told him she liked his shirt."

"Cut it out," Sammy muttered, dropping his head and blushing. "I just think she has a good voice, that's all."

"She's got a great voice," Finn said, blinking in surprise when he registered his own words. He hadn't even intended to speak. "I mean, from what I've heard, anyway," he mumbled quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Do you know her?" Sammy asked curiously , arching a bushy blonde brow.

Finn stared at the young man for a long moment, weighing his words within his mind. _Do I know her? _He remembered a time when he couldn't fathom _not _knowing her. She had been the center of his life, the pinnacle of his existence. She had been his everything. But now, as he faced this innocent, starry-eyed kid, he realized that he'd stopped knowing Rachel long ago. A dull ache resounded through his chest as he slowly shook his head. "I used to," he said softly as an uncomfortable prickling sensation formed at the back of his eyes. "A long time ago."

"Wow," Sammy seemed oblivious to Finn's uncomfortable realization. "She's amazing, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Finn replied, nodding wistfully. "She's the most amazing person I've ever known." A lump began to coalesce within his throat, and he quickly turned away. "Excuse me," he stated, swallowing harshly, "I have to get back to my hotel." And with that, he beat a hasty retreat, leaving the group gawking after him.

It was only later, when he'd made it back to the Sheraton, that he realized he'd forgotten to say hello. But then, he had already said goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** First, let me apologize for lagging on this chapter. Unfortunately, I recently suffered a severe back injury and was placed on bed rest. And more recently (the last couple of days, in fact), I developed a bad case of the flu. As a result, writing became rather difficult. Luckily, though, not writing is sort of like not breathing for me. And as the minsk can attest, I wanted nothing more than to get this chapter out for all of you. So here it is. I hope you enjoy it. ;-)

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, although I did have the pleasure of seeing them at Paleyfest. I'm telling you, you're all going to love the next episode!!

~*~

**Nine Years Ago (Give or Take a Few Months) . . .**

_Finn Hudson shuffled slowly down the crowded hallway, his hands crammed into his pockets and a forced grin stretched across his face. He was surrounded by his fellow teammates – the football ones, not the ones that sang – and feeling more uncomfortable by the second. He didn't get it, really. How was it that he could be with so many buddies, yet feel so alone at the same time? And why was it that they hadn't even mentioned the . . . _incident_? I mean, it had been an entire day, but no one had said anything. Not even her. It was almost as if it had never even happened. It was almost as if he had never even kissed Rachel Berry._

_For some reason, the idea made his stomach feel funny, and his forced grin quickly turned into a mild frown._

"_What's up with you, Hudson?" Murphy tossed the football at Finn's head, chortling when the quarterback almost missed. "You forget to take your Midol today or something?"_

"_Cute," Finn returned, smirking sardonically as he slung the football into the air. "Almost as cute as your homecoming date, Murphy." When the other guys chuckled and elbowed him in the ribs, Finn's shoulders relaxed. He seemed to have successfully diverted the conversation._

"_Hey," Murphy retorted, narrowing his eyes, "It's not my fault Kim Chang came down with the flu."_

"_No," Finn replied, his smirk intensifying. "But did you really have to take your cousin?"_

"Second _cousin," Murphy quickly corrected, aiming a well-placed kick at the back of Karofsky's leg when the other football player let loose a loud guffaw._

"_Well played, Hudson," Karofsky stated, turning around to bump fists with Finn. _

"_Thanks." Finn's awkward smile returned the moment his knuckles hit his teammate's. Something about this just felt wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it – he didn't even really understand the problem – but it felt kinda like he was sliding backward, or like he was going backward through time. He had taken this monumental step. He had finally stood up to his fellow football players, and now he was . . . he was back to acting like a jerk again. What was it with him? And why was it that he suddenly cared? He had never cared before._

_Suddenly, Rachel's soulful brown eyes and gorgeous, radiant smile pushed themselves into Finn's mind. And before Finn knew what he was doing, he was suddenly glancing around the hallway for his fellow captain. For the girl who had stolen his heart. For the girl who had somehow escaped him for the better part of a day. Finn's brow furrowed when he realized that it was already lunchtime, and he still hadn't seen her._

"_So, tell me something, Hudson," Karofsky interrupted his thoughts, pushing through a crowd of mulling students. "What was that yesterday?"_

"_Huh?" Finn responded brilliantly, tossing the football to another teammate._

"_I mean, between you and that loud-mouthed midget," Karofsky elaborated, coming to a stop by the slushie machine. "Please tell me that was some kind of joke."_

"_Yeah, bro," another teammate, Sully, joined in. "Was that some sort of weird dance move or something?"_

_Almost instinctively, Finn's fists clenched inside his pockets and his lips curled downward into a fierce scowl. "She's not a midget," he said lamely, even when he felt himself wanting to say so much more. Even when he realized that this was it; this was the moment that Mr. Schue had told him about. The crossroads moment, when everything changed. And if he didn't do or say the right thing, somehow Finn knew that he was going to regret it later._

"_Whatever," Karofsky dismissed his remark, grabbing a large cup and filling it with a raspberry slushie concoction. "Midget or not, that was still weird. I mean, tell me you're not gonna try and tap that, man."_

"_That Berry freak is such a loser," Sully chimed in as he passed the football to Murphy, who nodded his silent agreement._

_It happens in life that everything seems to come together or fall apart just when you least expect it. And in that moment, when Finn was trying to decide what to tell his buddies, he reached a turning point, entering his own personal crossroads. As Karofsky finished filling his cup to the brim, Rachel Berry came to a stop across the hallway. Finn's chest clenched painfully when he glanced at her and realized she'd just heard their entire conversation. It clenched again when Karofsky noticed her, too, and a malicious smile snaked across his face._

"_Here," he said, pushing the cup toward Finn. "It looks like the freak's in need of another slushie bath."_

_Finn's breathing turned shallow as he automatically accepted the drink, his own makeshift vehicle to navigating the tricky crossroads he'd suddenly encountered. This was it. Either he splashed Rachel with the slushie, ending all hope he had of pursuing a relationship with the girl who just might be his soul mate. Or he refused to do it, dashing all dreams he'd ever had of maintaining his cool image and popularity._

_Turning slowly around, a slightly pale Finn Hudson faced an incredulous, distraught Rachel Berry, the slushie cup cool against his palm._

"_Finn?" Rachel queried softly, her eyes wide as she studied her potential boyfriend._

"_Hey, Rach," he replied, his lips quirking upward into a crooked smile. "What's up?" _

~*~

The cool New York evening air whipped through Finn's hair and assaulted his cheeks, turning them a rosy shade of red. Shuffling slowly through the theatre district, his hands crammed into his pockets and an apprehensive smile stretched across his face, a million thoughts coursed through his mind. A million worries hammered through his chest. Even as various patrons exited the theatre and made their way to their various hotels and homes, jostling him as he walked with aimless purpose toward the back of the establishment, he felt as though he were a million miles away.

He had seen _Les Misérables_ every night that week. And even though he had abandoned the front row, even though he had taken refuge in the back seats of the orchestra section, he continued to experience a jarring electrical jolt every time she stepped onstage. Standing toward the rear, never in the limelight, her voice nevertheless filled every facet of the building. It flowed across the house, washing over the audience and filling him with an overwhelming sense of awe. It was almost as if he had never left; almost as if he had gone backward in time, and she was singing just for him.

Okay, yeah. That was definitely lame. But he couldn't help the way her singing made him feel. He couldn't help the fact that even after all this time, even after all these changes, it still got inside him. It still affected him in a way that nothing else had ever been capable of doing. _She_ still affected him in a way no one else had ever been capable of affecting him before.

Perhaps it was for this reason that he couldn't get her out of his head. Perhaps it was for this reason that he hadn't been able to stop seeing her show. Perhaps it was for this reason that he finally found himself outside the stage door. And perhaps it was for this reason that his boss was starting to worry about him.

He had to admit that he hadn't exactly been at the top of his game this week. He almost shuddered, thinking about the nearly botched meeting he'd had with Apple a few days before. Just before making the deal, he'd accidentally insulted the company's CEO. Okay, so he hadn't realized the woman wasn't pregnant. And maybe he shouldn't have asked her when her due date was. And it was possible that his mind had been wandering through the entire meeting, his thoughts continually returning to a certain petite brunette who was slowly returning to the center of his world (even if she didn't actually know it yet).

But was that any reason for the CEO to tell him that she'd rather deal with Satan himself than have to talk to a moony-eyed teenager any longer? He honestly hadn't been _that _moony-eyed. He'd just been a little distracted, that's all. And not _too_ distracted, either. He just hadn't been able to get Rachel's voice out of his head, nor had he been able to stop thinking about how awesome it used to be when they sang together. How alive he'd felt. How real everything used to seem. How much he used to care for one small girl.

How much he _still_ cared for one tiny woman.

And besides that, he'd saved the deal. His boss had hired him because he was a quick talker, and had a way of making people feel good about themselves. This had been no exception. Rather than comment on the CEO's rather large abdomen, he'd simply said that she glowed beautifully with an internal excitement. By the end of the meeting, she was eating out of his hand. So why was it that his boss suddenly had him on speed dial? And why was it that he seemed to be on shaky ice when a week before, he had been Finn Hudson, his firm's shining star?

As if on cue, Finn's cell phone began vibrating in his coat pocket. An inadvertent sigh escaped his lips as he reached into his leather jacket and extracted the offending apparatus. But just before he accepted the call, just before he raised the phone to his ear, he realized that it wasn't his boss calling after all. The number flashing upon his screen had made an appearance a few other times this week, and each time Finn had declined acceptance, a guilty flush rising upon his face. And now that he was so close, now that the stage door was directly in front of him, he felt as though he were caught in a trap. Should he answer the call, preserving the potential relationship he knew was quickly fading? Or should he decline, allowing himself to delve into the potential relationship he desperately hoped to rekindle?

Finn's chest clenched painfully as his thumb hovered between the green "accept" button and the red "decline" button. Finally, just as it was about to descend on the scarlet choice, the phone stopped vibrating and the call went to voice mail. Finn let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding; a breath of relief accentuated by the squeaking of the stage door as it began to open.

"I'm telling you, man," said one of the kids he'd seen the other night, "Missy's gonna quit. She just can't hack it here."

"Oh, come on," a woman shook her head in denial, "Her voice is incredible. She's just sick of being upstaged."

"You've got to admit," the kid replied, smirking slightly, "Rachel has a way of taking over. She's only in the chorus, but she's already a total diva."

"I think Rachel's great," said a boy that Finn recognized as Sammy. "She could sing circles around Missy."

"Dude, you've really gotta quit it with the crush already," the kid berated him, rolling his eyes. "She's way too old for you."

A deep blush colored Sammy's cheeks, and he began to stutter. "Maybe she likes younger guys," he said, staring uncomfortably at his shoes.

"And maybe you're gonna win the lottery," his friend elbowed him in the side.

"It could happen," Sammy retorted, kicking at a stray stone.

Shaking his head as he leaned against the building, Finn's lips quirked into a sympathetic smile. He had to hand it to her; it was easy to fall head over heels for Rachel Berry. A reality made apparent by the fact that he was currently standing by the stage door in the chilly New York night, hoping that she might eventually make an appearance. Because even after everything he had decided before, even after walking away on that first night, he knew now that he had to see her. He had to talk to her. He had to find out if it was still real, or if he was imagining all of this. He had to know if she still felt it, too. Because no matter what might have happened in the past, no matter how they might have broken up or how they might have parted, he had never stopped thinking about her. He had never stopped missing her. He had never stopped wanting her to be a part of his life. Even if maybe he still hadn't admitted it to himself, he had never stopped caring about Rachel Berry.

So when the door opened once more, and the click of heels began to sound upon the pavement, Finn's heart skipped a beat. And when he slowly turned around, and his cinnamon eyes latched onto her own soulful brown, his breath caught in his throat. Once again, he felt as though he was reeling backward through time, as if the past seven years had never happened. As if he was still Finn Hudson, high school quarterback and dating the most beautiful, talented girl in the school. It was only when a soft gasp escaped Rachel's delicate mouth that he began to return to the present.

"Finn?" she queried softly, her eyes wide as she studied her ex-lover.

"Hey, Rach," he replied, his lips curling into his familiar crooked smile. "What's up?"

~*~

**Nine Years Ago (Give or Take a Few Months) . . .**

_Rachel's chest twisted at the sight of Finn Hudson – the very same Finn Hudson who had promised to be "that guy" only a day before – holding a cup brimming with a blue slushie concoction and staring directly at her. Glancing from the gawking boys in the background to the frosty cup in Finn's large hand, her guarded gaze finally locked onto his own bewildered stare. And in that moment, as she looked into his bright cinnamon eyes, a million unspoken words seemed to pass between them. A million unspoken emotions seemed to reverberate through the tension-filled air. Confusion. Longing. Pain. Clearly, Finn was confused. Clearly, he still didn't know how to stand up to his cruel peers. And clearly, he was considering splashing her with yet another slushie._

_Rachel's expression turned defiant as she continued to gaze into Finn's eyes. "What's going on, Finn?" she demanded, lifting her chin confidently when her voice emerged calm and unaffected. Even if she felt as though her heart might break at any moment, there was no way she was going to let Finn Hudson see it. Not this time._

"_Um," Finn stuttered, glancing at the slushie cup and back into Rachel's flashing brown eyes. "I was just . . ."_

"_You were just what, Finn?" Rachel demanded, taking an instinctual step toward the boy. _You can do this, Rachel, _she assured herself, even as her hands curled into nervous fists. _You can stand up for yourself. You're smarter than all of his friends. You're better than all of this. _"You were just going to listen to your misguided adolescent friends and succumb to peer pressure yet again?"_

"_I was . . . um," Finn looked at his friends over his shoulder, causing Karofsky to narrow his eyes. ("Get it over with, man," the other boy urged, crossing his beefy arms over his chest.) A dejected sigh escaped Finn's lips, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't know what I was doing, Rachel," he admitted._

_As Finn's features twisted into a look of pure misery, Rachel's own expression softened as a twinge of sympathy reverberated through her slender frame. "You don't have to do this, you know," she confided, placing a hand on his arm. When Finn glanced at her hand in surprise, a gentle smile spread across her face. "You don't have to listen to them," she continued, wrapping her fingers around his heated skin. "You don't have to be who they want you to be." _

_She bit her lower lip, knowing there was more she wanted to say; knowing there was more he needed to hear. She could feel the fear coursing through her veins, the anxiety roiling through her gut. She was so afraid she was going to open her heart only to have it stepped on again. But even more powerful than that dread, even more powerful than the anxiety that Finn would find another way to hurt her, was the fear of losing this chance. The fear that if she didn't tell him exactly how she felt now, she'd never have the chance again._

"_We can walk away from this," she found herself saying, gazing warmly up at him. "This is it, Finn. This is our opportunity to show everyone that we're better than all of the threats, and the politics." Taking a deep breath, she stood on her tiptoes so that she was looking steadily into his eyes. "This is our opportunity to be together. Please don't throw it away," she begged._

_With her last few words, Finn seemed to snap from his stupor, blinking rapidly as he gazed at her parted lips. "I don't want to throw it away, Rachel," he confessed, his fingers flexing around the slushie cup._

"_Then don't," her smile widened. "Just walk away."_

_But: "I can't," Finn stated, leaning closer to her lips._

_Rachel's stomach dropped even as her pulse increased at the feel of his breath, warm against her cheek. "Why not?" she appealed._

"_Because," Finn said, dipping ever closer to her mouth, "This is my crossroads." And then he kissed her, brushing his lips softly against her own, and winding his free hand around her small waist. _

_Rachel's breath caught in her throat and her fingers found their way into his thick hair as the kiss increased in urgency, and Finn traced his smooth, pink tongue over her bottom lip. "Finn," she breathed into his kiss, opening her mouth to allow him entrance. It was as if everything fell away – the teasing, the insults, the threats – and all that remained was him. All that remained was _them, _and the result was intoxicating._

_It was only when Karosfky's derisive laughter cut into the moment that the two finally broke apart, and Finn dropped his arm to his side as he turned around in surprise._

"_You've gotta be kidding me, dude," Karofsky shook his head in disbelief. "You really want to be with this _thing_?"_

_Finn's wide eyes turned angry at the insult, and he set his jaw as he suddenly seemed to remember the slushie. Glancing from the cup and back at Karofsky, he made the slightest movement with his wrist. And as his fellow football player stared in disbelief, the frosty blue substance flew through the air and landed on his thick head. "Cut it out, Karofsky," Finn ordered, reaching down to thread his fingers protectively through Rachel's own. "She's _not _a thing." Looking at her, his lips curled into an affectionate smile. "She's my girlfriend." _

_At the words, a rush of warmth flooded Rachel's chest as she squeezed his fingers, a wide grin forming upon her face. After everything they had been through, after everything they had accomplished to get to this moment, she realized she had never been so proud of the boy standing by her side. "Let's go," she suggested, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb even as the slushie continued to drip down Karosfky's muscular back._

"_Sounds good," he agreed._

_And as they walked down the hallway with hands intertwined, an aghast Karofsky shouting after them, Finn tossed the slushie cup into the trash._

~*~

Staring at herself in her circular mirror, Rachel slowly ran a brush through her long brown hair while attempting to ignore the flowers resting on her dressing table. She also attempted to ignore the box of candy, and the fluffy pink teddy bear, and the stack of cards that was quickly increasing in size. All from the same person. All with the same sentiment in mind. Every night, they came. And every night, Rachel tried to ignore them.

Harder to ignore, however, was the growing ache which reverberated through her chest every time she stepped on stage. She couldn't quite describe it, really. She only knew that something was wrong. Something wasn't as it should be. It was the same feeling she'd gotten on opening night. The same emotion she'd felt when she'd first performed. Rachel Berry had always been knowledgeable and in control; she had always known her own mind. So why couldn't she figure out what was bothering her now?

Sighing deeply, she laid her brush down on her makeup stand and forced a bright smile into place. This was no time to be contemplating unknown feelings or unwanted gifts. She was a Broadway star (well, more like an understudy, but that was really just a technicality), and she had to deal with her adoring fans. (Okay, so she didn't have too many fans yet, but her fan base would grow in time. And as any good Broadway star knew, the fan base cemented one's rise to fame.) Nodding decisively, she pushed herself out of her chair and headed for the door.

"Night, Rachel," a fellow chorus member waved at her. "Good job tonight."

"Thank you, Nicole," Rachel replied brightly, keeping her smile firmly in place. "You performed quite well yourself."

Opening the door to the outside street, Rachel narrowed her eyes against the New York breeze and glanced at the congregating fans, preparing herself to sign playbills and programs alike. But before she could uncap her sharpie, before she could even approach the first person, she noticed a tall man standing near the front. And suddenly, everything stopped and the marker fell from her hand.

Rachel felt as though she were floating backward through time; as though the last seven years had been nothing but a dream, and she was suddenly waking up. Her hand flew to her mouth, her heart skipped a beat, her eyes continued to widen as she stared across a few feet of empty space and directly into Finn Hudson's nervous, affectionate cinnamon eyes. It was as if she were in a different world, another dimension, and everything was exactly as she never thought it could be.

Stepping slowly toward the tall, muscular man, she barely noticed the overly excited fans congregating behind the stage door. She barely noticed anything at all. The only thing that permeated her thoughts, the only thing that registered within her mind, was Finn. Finn Hudson, just as she'd always remembered him and completely different all at the same time. He was wearing a suit, complete with pressed necktie and polished black shoes. His hair was trimmed and neat, and he was poised and confident. Gone was the letterman's jacket, gone was the tousled hairstyle, gone was the awkward gait. Yet it was unmistakably him.

"Finn?" she questioned softly, gazing at him in wonderment.

"Hey, Rach," he replied, his lips quirking upward into his familiar charming smile. "What's up?"

"Is that really you?" she asked, nearly mesmerized by the sight of him. _Is this really happening? Is Finn really here? Or is the rampant stress of stage life finally getting to me?_

His laughter still took her breath away. "In the flesh," he replied. His crooked smile broadened even as he studied her intently. "How have you been?" he asked, gazing deeply into her eyes.

Rachel had to suppress a sudden shiver at the weight of his stare. "I've been good," she replied, blinking in an attempt to clear her head. "I . . . I'm acting in _Les Misérables_," she said, blushing slightly at the simplicity of her statement. Clearly, Finn knew she was a part of the program. Why else would he have come to the stage door?

"I know," Finn confessed, his own cheeks suddenly reddening. "I've seen it every night this week."

Rachel stared at him in slight disbelief before her lips finally curled into a pleased smile. "What did you think?" she asked, taking an instinctual step closer even as her eyes remained locked on his own. She felt as though she could drown in those eyes; she felt as though she _wanted _to drown in those eyes. She'd never seen so much reflected in one person's gaze.

"It's okay," Finn replied, shrugging as Rachel's smile faltered slightly. "Of course," he continued conspiratorially, his expression turning secretive, "There is one bright spot in the show."

"Oh?" Rachel breathed, goose bumps breaking onto her arms at the look on Finn's face. "What was that?"

"It's more like a 'who'," Finn elaborated. She couldn't help but notice that his hand fluttered by his side, almost as though he wanted to place it on her arm. She couldn't help but notice how much she wanted him to place it on her arm. It really was as though nothing had ever changed. In that moment, with the adrenaline rush from the stage still fresh in her mind and an older Finn Hudson still clear in her sight, she seemed to forget why they had ever broken up in the first place. She seemed to forget that they had ever broken up at all.

"A 'who'?" she prodded, her heart hammering in her chest as she took another step closer. "What do you mean, Finn?"

"Come on, Rachel," he replied, running slightly flustered fingers through his hair. "You've always been the star of any show. Even when they stick you behind the scenery," he added with a smirk.

"Finn Hudson," she giggled, swatting his shoulder. "They do not stick me behind the scenery."

"Oh, really?" he drawled, giving her a knowing look.

"Well, okay," she amended, shaking her head. "But it's just one scene."

"Mmhmm," he murmured, a glint of affection entering his light brown eyes.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" she stated, glaring at him playfully. "Positively recidivous."

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you just said," Finn said, looking suddenly bewildered.

"Have you ever?" she retorted, although a tender quality washed through her words. And before she could stop herself, she was suddenly reaching out to place her own hand on his arm.

Finn blinked at the movement, staring at her hand in mild amazement before returning his gaze to her own. "I've missed you, Rachel," he stated, his voice slightly husky.

"I've missed you, too, Finn," she admitted, tightening her grip on his arm. _Every day_, the thought came, and she found herself averting her gaze to his broad chest. _When did Finn Hudson become so muscular?_

"You want to get out of here?" he queried, swallowing nervously.

But he needn't have worried. Forcing herself to look back up into his overpowering eyes, she slowly nodded. "Yeah," she said, smiling gently as she moved her hand down his arm, linking her fingers with his own. "That sounds good."

And as they walked down the vibrant New York City street with hands intertwined, exuberant fans chattering in the background, she began to wonder if the past seven years really had all been a distant dream.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thank you all for your lovely comments; it means a lot to know that you're enjoying the story. Just to clarify any confusion that might arise, Finn and Rachel separated seven years ago. Though the flashbacks refer to a time nine years in the past, they will eventually progress until we reach the point when they parted ways seven years beforet to clarify any confusion that might arise, Finn and Rachel separated seven years ago. Though the flashbacks refer to a time nine years in the past, they will eventually progress until we reach the point when they parted ways seven years before.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

~*~

**Nine Years Ago (Give or Take a Few Months) . . .**

_Rachel nervously smoothed her red plaid skirt as she and Finn slowly made their way down Main Street, a gentle breeze blowing through her hair as the glittering lampposts lit their way. Assorted crowds of teenagers mingled upon the pavement, small shops and privately owned restaurants bustled with activity, and a steady stream of vehicles made their way down the fairly busy street. It was the usual Friday night in Lima, full of people with nowhere to go but finding entertainment just the same._

_Well, it was the usual Friday night for most people. Because most people were simply enjoying the evening, thankful for the approaching weekend. Most people weren't two apprehensive teenage kids, with sweaty hands and fluttering feelings of anxious optimism. Most people weren't on their very first dates, after almost a year of fighting their fledgling feelings. Most people weren't Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson._

_She couldn't quite understand it, really. She had perused all the pertinent websites and even studied a definitive text concerning the matter. First dates could be highly stressful experiences for many individuals, it was true. However, most individuals scarcely knew each other before their first romantic encounter. She and Finn had been friends for months. So why was it that she couldn't think of a single thing to say to him?_

"_My two gay dads and I come to Main Street quite often," she tried, even though her voice seemed to come from very far away. Wiping her sweaty palms upon her skirt, she forced herself to straighten up and clear her throat. "We regularly find ourselves at one of the many fine dining establishments dotting this quintessential thoroughfare."_

_Finn's forehead creased at her words. "Huh," he replied, smiling blankly._

_Rachel had to suppress a sigh. Clearly, that hadn't been the correct approach. Biting her lower lip, she searched her mind for a suitable alternative; for something, anything to bring Finn out of his troublesome shell. _Come on, Rachel, _she prodded herself. _What was it the book said? 'Should your date display signs of nerves or anxiety, the best tactic might be a tasteful compliment. After all, who doesn't love to receive compliments every now and then?'_ Well, that was it then. She simply had to develop a pleasing sentiment in order to assuage Finn's anxious state of mind._

_Her thoughts decided, she paused for a moment and turned to the boy traveling by her side. It wasn't difficult to think of something kind to say. Her breath caught in her throat as she studied his handsome visage. Truth be told, Finn looked amazing tonight. His russet hair was finely groomed, his cinnamon eyes gleaming from the excitement of the evening. And even though he was bedecked in simple attire, his jeans fit him perfectly and his leather jacket accentuated his nicely toned physique._

_Placing a hand on his chest, Rachel smiled warmly at her new boyfriend. "You look very nice tonight, Finn," she said. "I'm proud to be the girl with whom you chose to spend your rather valuable evening."_

_Even though he might not have understood the statement in its entirety, she didn't think he could miss the tender look upon her face, nor the affectionate lilt to her words. Slowly, he raised his hand so that he could rest it upon her own. "I'm just glad to be here with you," he replied honestly, and the crooked smile he gave her caused Rachel's nerves to melt away. "I've kinda wanted to do this for a long time."_

"_Me, too," she said breathlessly, her heart skipping a beat as she continued to stare into his warm brown gaze. She had wanted to be with Finn from almost the first moment she had laid eyes on him. Unlike most of the other boys at McKinley, there was something special about the sweet, unassuming boy gazing down at her. It was almost as if they shared some unspoken connection, some hidden mystery that no one else had ever discovered. It was more than just the music, more than just the effortless manner in which their two voices combined. It was almost as if he understood her in a way that nobody ever could._

_Suddenly, Rachel knew exactly what she wanted to do on their first date. "Come on," she said, reaching down to grab hold of Finn's hand._

"_Where are we going?" Finn asked as the tiny girl began to drag his massive frame down the street (he wasn't putting up much of a fight)._

"_You'll see," Rachel replied secretively._

~*~

Her hand intertwined with Finn's, Rachel walked down the busy Times Square thoroughfare in a state of disbelief. She still couldn't quite believe that Finn was here, that he was by her side. She still couldn't quite believe that she hadn't been plunged into some bewildering, fantastical dream. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she noted the differences that the years had wrought upon her long lost friend. He was more confident now, less bumbling. He seemed to walk with the air and grace of someone with a definitive purpose in life. But even as tiny prickles of electricity skirted up her wrist at the touch of his warm, smooth palm, she couldn't help but wonder what purpose he had discovered. What was it that Finn Hudson was doing with his life?

"So, Finn," she began awkwardly, searching her chaotic thoughts for something to say. "How long have you been in New York?"

"A couple weeks," Finn replied, placing his free hand into the pocket of his slacks.

She waited for him to elaborate, to expand upon his statement. When he failed to do so, an uneasy silence fell between them. "That's great," she stated lamely, a mild rush of heat rising to her cheeks. Where were her keen words and profound sentiments when she needed them most?

"Yeah," Finn nodded, kicking at a crumpled piece of paper. "You know, for work."

"Oh," she said, folding her lips as she cast about for something else to say. Finally, she settled on gathering more information about his career. "What is it that you do?" she asked.

"I'm a public relations analyst for L.J. Carson and Sons," he stated, staring straight ahead. "Well, minus the 'sons'. My boss works on his own."

At first, Rachel wasn't certain that she'd heard him properly. Finn – _her _Finn – was a businessman? The Finn she'd known, the Finn she'd dated, the Finn she'd _loved_ had entered a life of drab meetings and nine-to-five workdays? He hated structure. Even worse than that, he hated hard work.

"Wow," she murmured, pausing as she turned to face him. "I never would have thought that you would entertain such a profession, Finn."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, dropping her hand. Immediately, her skin grew chilly from the loss of contact. "It just sort of happened."

She studied him for a long moment, gazing at his downcast eyes, the mild downward curve of his lips and the slight slump of his shoulders. Her chest clenched at the sight, and she found herself wondering if Finn really had found a purpose after all. She found herself wondering if the confident man standing before her was still the confused boy she had known in her youth. She could almost see him hiding behind that cinnamon gaze, almost see him peeking out from beneath the shadows flickering within his eyes. She sensed a terrible sadness behind those shadows, a terrible weight that she hadn't known him to carry in the years they'd known each other. In the years they'd been close friends. In the years they'd fallen in love. And before the words had even formed within her mind, she heard them flowing through the air between them. "Are you happy?" she asked, staring at him intently. For some reason, her breath grew shallow as she waited for his response.

He blinked at the question, running his fingers through his short brown hair. "Sure," he said, but she sensed that the answer had been given more on impulse than anything else. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," she stated honestly, and it was her turn to shrug. "I just never figured you for a businessman, Finn."

"We all have to pay the bills, Rachel," he replied quietly, averting his gaze to a point just behind her left shoulder. "It's a good job."

"I'm sure it is," she whispered, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. Even so, she couldn't help but notice that the sadness reflected in his gaze had suddenly begun to penetrate her chest. And before she realized what she was doing, she felt herself following another impulse, and making another statement without thought: "Come on," she said, reaching once again for his hand.

"Where are we going?" he asked as his forehead crinkled.

"You'll see," she said simply, giving him a secretive wink as she laced her fingers together with his own. And in the midst of Times Square, among crowds of theatre goers, tourists and residents alike, the tiny, lithe woman began pulling the tall, muscular man down the street.

"Rachel, where are you taking me?" he demanded, but she noticed that he wasn't putting up much of a fight.

"Come on, Finn," she replied jovially, pulling harder still. "Even stuffy businessmen like surprises."

~*~

**Nine Years Ago (Give or Take a Few Months . . .)**

"_What is this place?" Finn asked curiously, relishing the warmth of Rachel's hand as she led him into a secluded woodsy area. The scent of oak wafted through the air and teased his nostrils, tiny twigs broke under his feet and the increasingly chilly breeze whipped through his hair._

"_I frequently come here when I feel the need to think," Rachel admitted, stepping over a fallen log. "It's just so peaceful that it's easy to wrap my mind around the troubling issues I often face."_

"_Huh," Finn grunted for a second time that night, although he sort of felt like he understood what she meant. Coming here, getting away from everything, made it easier to forget about other stuff. School, the guys, the fear that he wasn't going to measure up. It was almost like he was stepping into some secret world, some hidden universe to which only he and Rachel had the key. And when she led him to a narrow bridge overlooking a gurgling stream, the feeling only intensified. "This is cool," he said, gazing at her affectionately as he squeezed her hand._

"_I like it," she said quietly, shrugging as she blushed under the weight of his stare. _

_The sight caused his heart to race, and he found himself pulling her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her slender waist. Tucking her head under his chin, he breathed in her sweet scent and placed a gentle kiss atop her head. "This is nice," he confessed. Having Rachel in his arms, knowing that she was finally his . . . it was like everything he'd wanted was finally starting to happen. It was like all the crap he'd endured over the past few months was finally starting to disappear. After everything he'd been through, his life was finally starting to become something good, something amazing. And he had Rachel to thank for all of it._

"_Sometimes life becomes a little difficult," Rachel stated, turning in his arms to look at the stream. Folding her small hands over Finn's much larger ones, she leaned against his muscular torso and continued. "But when I come here, it's like everything is okay again."_

"_Yeah," Finn agreed, prickles of electricity coursing through his skin at her touch. "I get that."_

"_I knew you would," she said, a breathy quality entering her tone as she watched the water ripple below. "You're different, Finn. Special. You're not like the other boys at McKinley High."_

_His lips puckered at her words even as a rush of hope surged through his veins. After everything he'd done, after everything he'd put her through, her statement was almost like a salve for his guilty mind. "Really?" he asked, tightening his grip around her tiny frame._

"_Yeah," Rachel confirmed, nodding. "Really."_

"_I'm sorry, Rachel," his words spilled forth before they had fully formed within his thoughts. "I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through." He paused, trying to figure out what it was that he was trying to say. Trying to figure out what it was that he wanted to convey. Even though she had clearly forgiven him, even though she had clearly decided to give him a second chance, he felt like she deserved more. He felt like she deserved an apology, an explanation, an admission. He felt like she deserved the world. "I'm sorry that I was such a douche," he said instead, and had to refrain from smacking himself in the forehead. He really needed to pay better attention in English class._

_If he had been facing her, he might have noticed the tender smile which spread across her face. He might have noticed the warm gleam which flickered within her eyes, and the pink flush which colored her cheeks. He might have noticed that his words had meant much more than he believed. As it was, he only noticed the way she turned in his arms, pulling away from his touch._

"_I didn't mean –" he hastily began, but Rachel silenced him by standing on tiptoe and placing a finger to his lips._

"_You don't have to apologize anymore, Finn, "she replied, gazing at him warmly. His eyes widened slightly when he felt goose bumps break out onto his arms as he registered the expression on her face. "I've already forgiven you." And before he could say another word, before he could even think of an appropriate response, she was suddenly leaning forward and capturing his lips in a sweet, ardent embrace._

_The shallow stream continued to gurgle and the evening breeze continued to blow through his hair, but as Finn fell into her kiss, he forgot about everything else._

~*~

"What is this place?" Finn queried, relishing the warmth of Rachel's hand as she pulled him into a smoky abode. The scents of alcohol and perfume wafted through the air and teased his nostrils, cigarette butts littered the floor under his feet and the heady air caused his face to flush.

"You'll see," Rachel repeated her earlier promise with a sly smile, tugging him further into the depths of the room.

"Wait a second," Finn stalled, stopping in his tracks as he noticed a narrow stage bedecking the farthest wall. "Rachel, what are you up to?" His heart began to thud as her sly smile quickly transformed into a wicked grin. Even after seven years, she still had the ability to leave him speechless. When had the prim and ambitious Rachel Berry turned into such a vixen?

"I told you, Finn," she replied, winking. "You'll see."

"Rachel," he warned, but she had already begun pulling him closer to the stage. And when they arrived, when they stopped in front of the platform, she motioned to the stage hand to lean down so she could whisper into his ear. A jolt of irrational jealousy followed by a twinge of nervous apprehension rocketed through his muscular frame when the man nodded and graced her with a special smile. Returning to his position on the stage, he thumbed through a booklet and hit some buttons on his audio equipment.

"Rachel," he tried again, a stubborn edge entering his words, "What are we doing here?" Somehow, he already knew the answer to his question. Somehow, he already understood why she'd pulled him into the dim, musky club. But even as he waited for her response, even as he stood quietly while her eyes flickered over the shadows playing across his face, his nervous apprehension grew even more pronounced. Because after seven years of pushing himself to succeed, after seven years of forgetting everything he had once been, he wasn't sure if he was ready to experience this now. He wasn't sure if he was ready to return to a life that he had once chosen to leave far behind.

Even if it meant returning to a woman who had once been his everything.

Perhaps Rachel sensed his trepidation. Perhaps she knew what he was thinking, knew what he was feeling. Perhaps she understood what it had taken for him to even come this far. After all, she had always been good at understanding him. She had always known how he felt even before he knew it himself. And even though he couldn't help the prickle of regret which coursed through his chest when her smile faltered and her expression turned serious, he also experienced a surge of relief. Maybe she had changed her mind.

He should have known that Rachel Berry was nothing if not determined.

"This is a karaoke club, Finn," she explained, gesturing toward the audience. "People come here to listen to others sing."

"I know what a karaoke club is, Rach," he sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I just don't know what we're doing here."

For the second time that night, he had the odd sensation that Rachel was staring straight into his soul as she gazed at him with her intense brown eyes. "I thought that was obvious," she replied quietly, taking a step toward him even as she ran her smooth pink tongue anxiously over the expanse of her soft, warm lips. Despite himself, Finn suddenly found himself transfixed by her mouth. "Come on, Finn," she cajoled, looking up at him through thick lashes. "When was the last time you sang?"

Clearing his throat as he attempted to clear his mind of all thoughts pertaining to her moist mouth, his features quickly turned guarded. "High school graduation," he said promptly, shrugging nonchalantly even though he felt anything but. "I stopped being the male lead of New Directions a long time ago."

"Finn," Rachel replied softly, knowingly, as she took another step forward and placed her small hand upon his muscular chest. "Don't you understand?" she plead. "While it's true that Glee ended a long time ago, you never stopped being you. You never stopped being that special, amazing guy who loved to sing."

"You're wrong, Rachel," he shook his head, even though his words were reluctant. Even though he almost longed to agree; even though he almost longed to get up on that stage, to return to her side, to sing as if the years had suddenly melted away. "I'm not that guy anymore."

"No, Finn," she stated firmly, her fingers digging softly into the skin of his chest. "You're wrong. You'll _always_ be that guy."

He opened his mouth to argue. He opened his mouth to decline, to refuse, to deny it all. But before he could say another word, before he could even figure out what he wanted to say, the stage hand was leaning back down to their level. "Are you ready, Rachel?" he prodded.

Glancing from Finn to the stage hand and back again, Rachel raised her brows. "What do you say?" she asked, that same soulful expression radiating from her eyes. "Will you sing with me one more time?" And then, when he still appeared reluctant, when he still appeared as though he would refuse, she batted her lashes and continued in a more sultry tone. "For me?" she asked, leaning so close that her breath was warm against his jaw.

_Damn it._ Even after all this time, she still knew exactly how to twist him around her little finger. Even after all this time, she still knew exactly how to get underneath his skin and force him to do anything she wanted. Even as the refusal formed on his tongue, he found himself nodding in acquiescence. "One last time," he agreed. And when her face broke into a radiant grin and she pulled him up the steps of the stage, he could only follow obediently in her wake.

"What are we singing?" he questioned as a microphone was thrust into his hand. But he needn't have bothered. As Rachel took her place by his side, the opening strains of _Don't Stop Believin'_ began to emanate from the speakers. Before he knew what was happening, she was giving him that same soulful look. And suddenly, he had begun to sing. The lyrics rushed forth from bygone years, the rhythm lost but not forgotten. Never forgotten. He hadn't forgotten a thing, he realized as he belted out a song etched permanently into his mind.

He wanted to remain guarded, he wanted to remain aloof. He didn't want to allow himself to give into the feelings pumping through his veins. Unfortunately, he had learned long ago that what he wanted almost never turned out exactly as he'd planned.

The music washed over him as if a salve for his troubled past; it flowed forth from their combined voices, echoing against every corner and reverberating along every wall only to return in perfect harmony to its point of origin. Only to return with amazing force to his conscious mind, causing years of buried emotions and repressed thoughts to spring forth with surprising clarity. And when they were finished, and Rachel was pressed tightly against his side, he began to wonder what it was he had been hiding from. Even more, he began to wonder if maybe it was time to let go of the past seven years and return to his own point of origin.

He began to wonder why he'd ever given this up in the first place.


End file.
